When Ed Comes to the Real World
by Tis Oli
Summary: What happens when everybody's favorite alchemist is tossed into a present day high school, hanging around with yours truly? Read and find out!
1. Prologue

LullabyOliver

4/11/06-4/26/06

My FanFic

»Prologue «

A young girl stood in her hallway facing a mirror that could fit her whole body height in its frame. She was fourteen, had blue eyes, and was wearing only the slightest bit of eye makeup. One could only guess that the girl was trying to make herself look and feel more attractive, for she obviously did not find her image to be much appealing. At least, not her facial features; she did admire her figure. It was slender, thanks to her metabolism, and she was aware of the fact that it was much sought after by a few other girls from school. Though she dreaded feeble wrists and bony knees, it relieved her to have a torso that was so coveted.

The warm April sun shone through the windows of the girl's younger sisters' bedroom and glistened in her strawberry hair. She got the reddish color and wavy texture from her mom, as she had been told time and time again. Another thing the girl inherited was the family's sensitive stomach, causing her to miss school quite often. But today was not a school day; it was Sunday, and there was nobody home except for three family pets and the girl herself. She was frequently left alone when her younger sister went to Ballet class, though now she was used to it and actually looked forward to it. This, however, had been the first time that she decided to put on any makeup or try on clothes, and it was not turning out to be a success.

"Forget it," the girl muttered to herself, "I'm not pretty at all, I'm just--"

She was interrupted by a sudden knock at her front door. It frightened her for a second, considering that she had not been expecting any packages—or people—to be showing up at her house on that particular afternoon. Surely her mother would've told her if anyone were to be stopping by, and the girl would undoubtedly be aware of any and all parcels being delivered. She hesitated on whether or not to answer it. But no sooner were her thoughts interrupted again by a second knock then did she have time to come up with an answer.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," the girl said, half to herself, as she hurried down the stairs. Putting one hand on the banister pole, she then rounded the corner to a second hallway that ended at her front door, all the while hushing a loud series of barks which came from the little whippet-terrier mix that was Tisdale. The girl put one hand on the first door handle, being careful to look as good as possible to the stranger on the other side. But, as she was about to discover, it was no "stranger" who stood not three feet from her own body. In fact, it was about as far _from_ that very word as possible.

"Can I help you with--" the girl stopped, mid-sentence, as her jaw dropped in disbelief of the visitor. She struggled to speak, but all she could do was stare and try to catch her breath.

The boy standing before her was about fifteen, and was dressed in dark clothes lined with a white stripe. He also wore a red, cloak-like jacket and white gloves. His bangs hung down in his face sharing color with his golden eyes. The rest of his hair was shoulder-length and pulled back into a braid, except for a single strand that stuck up like an antenna from the peak of his hairline. Black, platform boots with a red underside seemed to bear the sole purpose of making him look taller, for he was only about as tall as the girl herself. With him was a seven-foot suit of armor that carried a run down traveling trunk. Together, they looked quite out of place in such a mediocre neighborhood.

"Wh-who...no, what..." the girl stuttered, still struggling to clearly identify the two. She took a deep breath and attempted to clarify their identities. "Are you...?" Again, she broke off in disbelief. The boy laughed to himself and began to talk, saving her the trouble.

"Nice to meet you," he started, "My name's Edward Elric."


	2. Two Visitors

»Part One: Two Visitors «

I could hardly believe it. Was this for real? Was Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist, _really_ standing in my doorway? I shook my head just to make sure I wasn't losing it.

"And I'm Alphonse Elric," said the suit of armor, making an effort to bend down and be at my eye-level. "We're--"

"I know who you are," I declared.

"You do?" Ed asked, rather confused.

"But how..." Al stood behind him, equally confused. "We've never seen you before!"

I sighed. This was going to be pretty hard to explain. _Uh, you're both fictional comic book characters who don't even exist, I don't know how you got here or what to do about it! Yeah, that'll work! Not. _I thought to myself in a stupid tone of... er... thought, wondering what I was really going to say. I looked around the confined space of our hallway, searching for something that might help along the situation.

"Okay, well, um..." Nothing. I couldn't think of anything to say. Here were my two favorite comic book characters, standing on my doorstep, and I couldn't think of anything to ask them. My dog picked up the barking again. "Tisdale, quiet down!" I turned around and took a step towards the gate at the end of the hall.

"Uh..." I heard from behind me. Ed and Al were still standing in the doorway! Where the heck was I going? "Miss...?"

"Oh, sorry. It's 'Oli'" How could I be so stupid as to forget about telling them my name? Maybe it was the pressure. I swiveled back around and faced Ed.

"Nice name," He smiled. Yeah, I was probably blushing at this point; good thing I was wearing all of that—MAKEUP!

I snapped my head and stared at the ground. Was I still wearing that mascara? What about the eye-liner, was it gone? I poked a finger just above my eye, my face still turned towards the floor. Being careful not to smudge my makeup—if it was still visible—I stroked the area below my eyebrow. Then I looked at my finger—nothing. Thank God. I had taken off the makeup before answering the door. I sighed. A little too obviously.

"You okay?" Out of the corner of my eye, through my thick hair, I caught Ed trying to see what I was doing. My head shot back up.

"Nothing! I-I mean, yes, I'm okay." I waved my hands in front of myself nervously, and laughed nervously, too. Brushing away a stray lock of hair with my hand, I glanced at him to see if he was still watching. He wasn't.

"That's good," Ed smiled and closed his eyes.

"Yeah," I said, still sounding nervous. Then I realized how rude I was being by making them stand outside. "Oh, wanna... come in?"

Ed opened his eyes. "I was hoping you'd say that. C'mon, Al."

"Okay," Al advanced, but there was another difficulty—the doorway was to small.

"Oops... uh..." What to do, what to do! I panicked. I couldn't leave Al outside while his brother came in, that would be super-rude! ...did I just say super? Focus! "Um..."

"That's okay," Ed assured me, "You got anything wider?"

"Well..." I thought for a second. "I do have a shed in the backyard with a bigger doorway, but I don't know if you'd--"

"Nah, don't worry about it. We've had worse," Ed said calmly. Al nodded, and Ed spoke again, "Where to?"

"It's out back," I told them, pointing behind me, "I can show you now, if you like..."

Ed just smiled and stepped aside. "Lead the way!"

I felt kind of bad, even though it wasn't really my fault at all. I walked outside and went around back; luckily, the gate was big enough to fit Al through. I stopped when we got to the shed.

"There," I pointed to a huge, above-ground chamber that was underneath the garage. Actually, they were attached; but whatever. "You sure this is okay?"

They looked at each other, then back at me and nodded. "Yes,"

I gave a nervous smile, still feeling guilty. Just then I heard a car pull up. "Mom!"

They looked at me, confused. "Mom?"

I started to panic again. What do I tell my family? _Yeah, you remember Ed, right? That guy from the books. Yeah, I know he's not real, but hey! That's not my problem! _I wished it weren't my problem. I really did. "Hurry, you guys!" I was frantic, and I made a motion for Al to hide. "Al get in that shed! Oh, how do I explain THIS to my family...? Sure, they won't see anything wrong with—ED!"

Ed looked at me as if to say, 'were you talking to me?'

"Ed! What do I do... what do I do...?" I heard the car door slam—this was it.


	3. 6:00

»Part Two: 6:00 «

Ed and I stood inside, panting and using the wall for support. As it turned out, it wasn't my mom at all, but a neighbor pulling in next door. My family was still on their trip. We had sprinted inside for nothing.

"That..." I began, "Was too close."

"Yeah," Ed breathed.

"I think we need to--" the phone rang. I held up a finger signal for 'hold on' and walked over to answer it. "Hello? Oh, hi mom. Yeah, I'm okay."

Ed was doubled over, still trying to catch his breath.

"What? Nothing, I was chasing puppy around," I lied about my heavy breathing, "Yeah, okay. Okay. Uh-huh. Love you too—bye." I hung up.

"Was that... your mom..?" Ed asked, his breathing just about normal again.

I nodded. "She said she won't be back for a few days, that gives us more time."

"Oh," Ed looked away, "What day is it?"

"Sunday."

"What'll we do for tomorrow, then?"

Tomorrow? I hadn't even thought of that... "I have school!"

"School?" Ed wasn't familiar with this kind of school, I guessed.

"Yeah," An idea formed in my mind. "What if—no..."

"What?"

"Nothing," I shook my head, but then I considered my idea. "What if you came to school with me?" I said aloud.

Ed shrugged. "I've got nothing better to do,"

"What about Al?" Surely Ed knew that seven-foot suits of armor were not everyday arrivals in this time.

"Al? He'll be fine," Ed laughed, "You got a cat?"

"Yeah," I said, "His name is Oliver."

"Okay then, Al is no problem. He loves cats."

"Alright," I sighed, "I guess... I guess you're coming to school with me tomorrow."

"Great!" he smiled, "Where do I sleep?"

"Okay, here it is." I pointed to the couch. It was blue and had white flowers on the tapestry. Tisdale had chewed it up some, and it was pretty tattered to begin with, but it's have to do. "I think it folds out."

"That's good," Ed replied. There was silence. We stood there, in front of the couch; he was in light-blue flannel pajamas and I was in my favorite South Park stuff, both of us staring at the couch. "So... uh... need help pulling it out?"

"Actually... I don't know how." I looked at the ground, then back at him for help.

"How should I know? It's your couch." He stared back at me.

"Um, okay," I voluntarily stuck my hand under a cushion and reached around for some sort of handle. When I felt a cold, pole-like object around my hand, I pulled. There was a displeasing 'snap!'

We looked at each other again. Then Ed spoke, "Uh, maybe I'll just..."

"...we don't have to pull it out..."

"...yeah."

I gave a nervous sigh and let my shoulders drop. "There's some extra blankets and pillows upstairs," I offered.

"That's okay," He said, pulling an old blanket off of an arm of the couch, "This is enough." He held up the blanket.

I nodded. "And Al--"

"He's fine, he doesn't need to sleep," Ed reminded me, "And that suit of armor can't feel the cold."

"Right," I said, "School starts at 7:30, be awake by 6:00."

"6:00?" He questioned, "Isn't that a little... early?"

"You're telling me," I muttered. "So you better be up by 6.'"

"I know, I know." Ed sat down and looked at the gold clock we had on the mantle, then at his own pocket watch, which was sitting on a table next to the couch. "'6:oo.'" He repeated.

"Goodnight, then," I turned off the living room lights.

"'Night."


	4. Little Pink Shrimp

»Part Three: Little Pink Shrimp «

"What about this?" I asked, holding up a blue tee-shirt.

"Nah," Ed frowned, "Never liked blue,"

It was Tuesday morning, 6:30, and we were going through my closet trying to find something for Ed to wear to school. I had already decided that his pants were okay, and he insisted on keeping the shoes (wonder why), so now all he needed was a normal-looking shirt.

"Okay, then..." I dug through another pile of clothes and pulled out a grey shirt that said 'Bar Harbor' on it. I held it up. "This?"

He smiled, "Yeah, that one looks--" He noticed something under the 'Bar Harbor' part. There, stitched into the shirt, was a picture of a little pink shrimp. "No way, I am NOT wearing that!" He made a face and crossed his arms.

What so many people wouldn't give to see him in that shirt. I laughed.

"WHAT'S SO FUNNY?" Ed nearly exploded, almost sure of the answer. I wanted to say it, but I probably would've been eliminated in the process.

"You don't like it?" I replied facetiously, making sure we both knew what was going on.

"Pft..." He glared at me, "Keep looking."

I laughed quietly to myself as I pulled out another shirt. This one belonged to Dylan, John's 13-year-old boy, but it looked like it might fit Ed. Dylan was taller than Ed was, but only by half an inch, so I held up the shirt once more.

"Okay, this one."

Ed turned around, uncrossing his arms.

"It's my, uh, friend's," I told him, "But he doesn't wear it."

"Looks fine," Ed took it and held one of the sleeves up to his left arm, making sure it would fit. "Anything WRITTEN on it? Anything I should KNOW about it?" He emphasized certain words.

I knew what he was talking about. "No, it's just a plain old shirt."

"It _better_ be," Ed sneered, lifting off his shirt as if I didn't care.

"_Excuse me_!" I said, turning away, "Care to do that while I'm _not_ looking?"

"Suit yourself," Not something I'd expect him to say, "How's it look?"

I turned around and made a picture frame with my index fingers and thumbs, as if I were testing the outcome. I was so used to seeing Ed in his black sleeveless shirt; he looked so different in Dylan's shirt. This one was white long-sleever and had faded, tomato-colored sleeves. Two white stripes stuck out from each sleeve and ran down the arms like a race car. I would probably have worn the shirt myself!

"Looks great!" I said. He smiled, showing off his teeth. I withdrew slightly and ran my tongue against the back of mine, which now had bright blue spacers around them. Today was going to be my first day at school since I had gotten the spacers.

Ed noticed my semi-sulk. "What's wrong?"

"Ugh... just these new spacers," I pulled back my lip and showed him the rubber bands.

"Eech," He grimaced, "Do they hurt?"

I felt one with my tongue. "They're supposed to," I bit down hard, "but they don't."

"That sucks," Ed frowned and put his fists on his hips.

"Yeah, I can't eat anything sticky or chewy..." Then I remembered, "Oh my god, I forgot breakfast! I mean, well, I don't eat it... but I forgot to make you some..."

Ed's stomach growled and he placed his hand on it, "Right, food."

Ed had his arms folded in front of him on the table, resting his head on them and waiting for food. I opened the cabinet and grabbed out several boxes of cereal, then placed them down on the table and waited for him to pick. I was in such a hurry that a certain detail had effortlessly managed to slip my mind.

But not Ed's.

"Erm..." he started to remind me as I hastily opened the fridge. It was 6:50 and we had just about half an hour to get to school on time—and it was a half hour walk.

"Did you pick one yet?" I asked, not even expecting an answer.

He lifted his head, shoving a cereal box aside. "About that..." His voice trailed off as he realized I wasn't fully listening.

I reached inside the fridge. "Okay, now we have orange juice and lemonade to drink," I offered.

"Uh, orange juice. Y'know, I--" I cut him off.

"Orange juice it is!" I poured him a glass and shoved it into his hands, nearly spilling it. Then I went back to the fridge. "Have you picked your cereal yet?"

"No--" Ed barely had time to answer before I cut him off again.

"Okay, we have whole milk, one percent, skim, two per--" I froze, turning towards Ed. He looked back at me, nervously laughing.

"Oh, THAT's right," I said through gritted teeth, a slightly annoyed tone to my voice, "You don't DRINK milk, right?"

He frowned and shook his head.

I slammed the fridge door. "HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET YOU CEREAL IF YOU WON'T EVEN DRINK ANY MILK? YOU PUNY LITTLE BABY!" I yelled, enraged—which is odd, because I'm usually laid back.

"WHAT'D YOU CALL ME?" Ed yelled back.

"YOU HEARD ME! YOU ARE A PUNY LITTLE B-A-B-Y BABY!" Now it was just for fun. "NO, WAIT—YOU'RE WORSE THAN A BABY! CAUSE UNLIKE YOU, BABIES DRINK MILK!"

"WAIT'LL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, I'LL—"

And somewhere, outside, sits Al; watching all of this from the shed.

Sigh. "Oh, brother."


	5. Fullmental Alchemist

»Part Four: Fullmental Alchemist «

"C'mon, we're gonna be late!" I complained as I dragged Ed down the hall by an his arm. The fight from earlier had ended--victorious, on my part—when I had gotten a hold of Ed and pinned him up against a wall. At first he thought I was joking, but then I kicked him in the shin and made him read what was written on the wall. He hung his head in shame as the words dribbled out of his mouth, 'Height Chart,' also noticing that Dylan was an inch taller and over 2 years younger.

"We're already late," He pointed out, having long forgotten the whole "height" thing.

"There's still ten minutes,"

"It takes you that much time to prepare?"

"I—I mean we--have a little something to do first..." I told him. "I want you to meet some people."

"Huh?"

I laughed and pulled harder at his wrist. "Come on!"

As we entered the 9th grade pod, I slowed down and let go of his wrist. Just as he caught up with me, walking to my right, I shouted to my friends and ran to them. Ed followed.

"Hey, Allison! Michelle!" I called out, coming to a stop at Allison's locker. The three of us met there every morning before classes started, it was like a routine.

"Hi, Oli," Allison said. She had blue eyes like mine and her dyed blond-to-black hair was in two pigtails resting on each of her shoulders. She had been my best friend since the fourth grade, and even though we had fought a lot throughout the years, we always remained inseparable.

"Haaiii," my other friend, Michelle, lingered on the "i" in "hi." She had dark eyes and dark hair, which she usually put in a ponytail, leaving her bangs to only hang down on the left side of he face. I often told Michelle how she looked like Raven from _That's So Raven_, and even though she continues to deny it, I know she always takes it as a compliment.

"Who's _this_?" Allison pointed to Ed, who I had forgot was standing behind me. Allison _hated_ Fullmetal Alchemist and we both knew it, yet I didn't quite know how she would react when I told her who it really was.

I turned around. "Um, this is Ed," I turned back to my friends.

"Hiya!" Ed leaned his left shoulder against a locker and smirked, waving his right hand once in a quick, jerky fashion. Yes, his _right_ hand.

He caught this just as quickly as I did, retracting his hand like a bullet. Unfortunately, my friends never miss a thing.

"What was that?" Michelle asked, sounding like a curious little two-year-old.

I sighed. "Okay, you guys, now don't flip or anything, alright?" I started, even though I knew they would flip, regardless of their response.

"'Bout whaaat?" they both cooed.

I took a deep breath, "Now, you might not believe me--"

"What?" I could tell Allison was anxious.

I looked at Ed, who had his whole back resting up against the lockers and was watching kids in the pod. I elbowed him in the left arm as if to say 'pay attention!'

"This," I grabbed at his sleeve and showed my friends (showed Ed, not the sleeve), "is... that guy from the book." ((and if this were anime, which it's not, Ed probably would've fallen over in disapproval.))

"Whaaat?" They both said, confused.

I was about to try again when Ed spoke up. "What she means is, I--" he struck some sort of "fancy pose" before continuing, "Am Edward Elric."

Allison and Michelle looked at each other. "Who?" ((again with the falling))

Ed's pose shrunk, along with his ego. "Whaddya mean, 'who?'" he mocked in disbelief, "It's me! Edward Elric!"

"You _guys_," I said, "_Ed_? Remember?"

"So?" A likely response from Allison, though I didn't expect Michelle to know, either.

"Wait, who?" Michelle asked, still confused.

"Never mind," Ed muttered, temporarily defeated. He sank to the floor and hugged his knees to his chest in shame.

"Guys! From my book? Remember?" I couldn't believe that, after all that talking about it, all of that useless information I had given to my friends, they still didn't know who "Fullmetal Alchemist" was. Then I had an idea. I reached into my backpack and pulled out _Fullmetal Alchemist: Land of the Sand, _holding it out for my friends to see.

"Look," I pointed to Ed's picture on the cover, "Now do you get it?"

"Oh!" Michelle suddenly remembered something. "You mean, Fullmental Alchemist?" ((falling over... okay, I'll stop.))

"Full... _mental_?" Ed looked as if he were going to cry, though I knew he was just being dramatic.

Allison took the book from my hands and squinted. She and Michelle glanced back and forth from the cover to Ed himself, squinting, as if they were comparing the two.

"This..." Michelle pointed to the cover picture, "is him?" She asked in disbelief. I nodded.

"How is this _him_?" Allison thrust an upturned palm in Ed's direction and took the liberty of declaring the worst; "This guy's like a freakin' squirt!"

I froze.

Ed's pathetic whimpering noises ceased as he slowly cocked his head to face the rest of us. "What... did you call me..?"

"Uh..." Allison didn't exactly know what she had gotten herself into, much less would she even care. Heck, she'd probably do it more if she knew!

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING 'SQUIRT?' YOU WANNA PIECE'A ME? COME HERE AND I'LL SHOW YOU WHO YOU'RE DEALING WITH!" I practically had to grab him from under the arms to keep him from lunging at Allison; who, not to mention, was also taller than Ed.

"Whoa, calm down, kid." She obviously knew nothing about him.

"I'M NOT A KID! I'M FIFTEEN! THAT'S WAY OLDER THAN Y—" Ed stopped squirming for even the slightest second and glanced around. He did the math. If I was 14, and these were my friends, and they were older than me, like I said... "OH, JUST SHADDAP!"

"Ed, stop--!" I was losing my grip as he continued to struggle toward the unflinching Allison that was his target. "You're making a scene!"

"LEMME GO LEMME GO LEMME GO!" I was surprised that he had so much energy after not eating breakfast.

"O-kay..." Allison and Michelle looked at each other, then at me. The bell rang. "I gotta go to class now. Bye!"

"...bye..!" I choked out.

"OH NO YOU DON'T! WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING! DON'T THINK YOU CAN JUST WALK AWAY! I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU YET!" He was too much. I had to drop him. He gave a victorious "Ha!" and was about to dash down the hall after Allison when somebody grabbed him by the back of the shirt.

"I SAID LEMME G--" Ed turned around, surprised it wasn't me. "Who the hell 'r you supposed to be?"

The man frowned. "I," he said, "am the Principal."


	6. Shark Attack

»Part Five: Shark Attack «

"I'm real sorry, sir," I pleaded to the principal. I had never done anything so bad that it had gotten me sent to the office before. And why was I the one in trouble? Ed was the one who violated the rules, or whatever. He was sitting outside, arms folded, looking like a little kid in time-out. And I was taking the blame. "He won't do it again, I promise."

"He'd better not." Mr. Cahill scoffed. "Who'd you say he was, your cousin?"

"Yeah," I lied. Obviously I wasn't about to tell my school principal about Ed's real identity. "My cousin."

We stepped out of his office.

"Ed!" I half-whispered to my so-called 'cousin.' "You are in _so_ much trouble!"

"Let me handle this," the principal squatted down, reaching Ed's eye-level. "Young man, do you understand why this is wrong?"

"Yeah, yeah. What am I, five?" Ed wasn't even looking at the principal as he talked. I kicked him hard in the shin again. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Oli," Mr. Cahill reminded me who was in charge.

"Sorry," I replied, "My foot slipped."

He turned back to face Ed. "Anyway, I'm gonna let you go this time," he announced, "but you'd better work on those rules, you hear?"

"I heard you." Ed said.

"Okay then." He stood up. "You guys need tardy slips, you're late."

I beamed angrily in Ed's direction. He shrugged and got out of the chair.

"Here you are," Blanche pushed the bright orange slip in my direction. She turned and faced Ed. "Name?"

"Ed," he replied grouchily.

"Yeesh, _someone's_ in a bad mood." Blanche muttered. She's not one to care much for people's opinions and often hosts detentions. Ed shot her a dirty look.

"Come on, Ed." I took hold of his wrist again and dragged him out of the office. When the people inside were out of earshot, I turned and faced him. "What were you doing? You could'a got me suspended! Then what! Huh? What were you planning to do then?"

Ed put his hands in his pockets and shrugged again. For some reason, though, it didn't annoy me as much as it should have.

"Ugh... my locker is this way." I turned and started walking down the hall. I could hear him take his hands out of his pockets and follow me, still walking on my right. I stopped at my locker and muttered my combination to myself as I performed it.

"What's in there?" he put his hands on the front of his thighs and bent down, peering into my locker.

"Binders, notebooks, text books—school stuff." I collected my stuff and hung my backpack from one of the little silver hooks inside the locker.

"Oh," Ed sounded uninterested, "I wouldn't know. Never went to a school like this before."

"Yeah, well," I picked up my Thumper purse and closed my locker. "Just don't let Mr. Chmura hear you say that."

"Mr. Who?"

"Chmura! Biology teacher!" I said over my shoulder, already headed for the stairs, "Now hurry, these slips have the time written on them!"

Ed looked at his slip and speed-walked after me. "Coming!"

I pushed open the door to Mr. Chmura's Biology room. Class had been going on for only fifteen minutes, so we weren't that late.

"Hello, Oli," I handed him my slip. "Nice of you to join us."

Mr. Chmura was one of the nicest teachers I knew. I always felt sorry for him for some reason; maybe it was because the first thing I'd learned about him was that he had dyslexia. He was in his mid-30's, I'm guessing, and had chestnut hair. He always wore a tie and a nice shirt, even though he was a really funny person on the inside.

"Sorry we're late," I said.

"No problem," He smiled. Then he noticed Ed, standing behind me. "Who's your friend?"

I half turned around, acknowledging the person behind me. "This is..." I began, planning to use the 'cousin' disguise. Then I remembered that Michelle was in this class—right in front of me, to be exact. She didn't really believe me when I told her who Ed really was, did she? Only one way to find out... "This is my cousin."

"Nice to meet you--"

"Ed,"

"Nice to meet you, _Cousin Ed_!" I giggled. Mr. Chmura could be really lame sometimes, you couldn't help laughing. But then he stuck out his hand, to shake Ed's. His right hand.

"Uh..." Ed looked quickly at me for help, flexing his metal hand in his pocket as a clue. How embarrassing was this? Now what!

Mr. Chmura sensed that something was wrong. He withdrew his hand. "Is there a problem?" He turned to me.

"No problem!" I assured him, sounding nervous. I whispered in Ed's direction, "Just show it to him!"

Ed laughed nervously as he pulled his auto-mail arm from inside his pocket and showed it to Mr. Chmura; high-five style. He laughed again as he flexed it and watched the teacher's expression. Everyone in the class looked over.

"Whoa!"

"You see that?"

"Look at his arm!"

Ed slowly returned the limb to its nest, his eyes scanning the room to see everyone's reactions.

"Dude! He's the--"

"Shhh!" I glared at Michelle.

"Oop--" she looked back apologetically, then mouthed, 'sorry.'

"That's quite an arm," Mr. Chmura seemed rather impressed. "What happened to it?"

Ed and I looked at each other. We were both thinking the same: LIE! Neither of us would even dare tell this man—or anyone in the class—the real truth. But what else could be so bad that you lose your arm? And of course we had to say something about his leg... Car accident? Amputation? Shark attack? Ooh, shark attack! That could just barely explain it.

"Uh... shark attack!" I blurted out.

"Shark attack, huh?" Mr. Chmura was very excited.

Ed was quick to catch on. "Yup. My left leg's auto—I mean, metal—too." He lifted up his pantleg for everyone to see. The class was indeed amazed. Even I was a little surprised at how popular Ed was becoming... wait... popular? Hey! Why aren't I popular! I wanna be p—oh, sorry.

"You must be pretty brave!" Some kid said.

"Hah," Ed's ego was acting up again. "You act like you've never seen mechanic limbs before!"

My eyes shifted to a certain seat in the room. Luckily it was empty—the girl who normally sat there's father had lost his arms in an unfortunate accident as well, and it probably would've made her uncomfortable.

"That's enough, Ed." I put my hand flat on top of his head and pushed him down into the seat beside me. Ed flashed another jerky smile around and kicked back as if he were in an easy chair.

"Jealous?" He looked at me with one eye open, still smirking like an idiot.

"Just pay attention, would'ya?" I slapped a piece of paper and a pencil down in front of him. "Mr. Chmura expects us to take notes."

"Whatever." Ed picked up the pencil in his left hand and put it to the paper.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, taking out my assignment book. "He hasn't put anything on the board yet!"

Ed looked over at me and held up his paper.

"I said to take notes, not doodle on it!"

"You're one to talk." He pointed at the pages of my assignment notebook, most of which were covered with my drawings.

I blushed and covered the book with my arm. "This is different! Now pay attention before we get in more trouble!"

"O-kay! Time to take some notes!" Mr. Chmura piped up. "Write today's date at the top of your papers..."

"Hey," Ed poked my elbow. "What's the date?"

I pressed a button on the My Little Pony watch I was wearing, then turned back to face him. "April 11,"

"'Kay, thanks." He began to write it in the top left corner: 4/11/...16?

"Ed, what are you doing!"

"Writing the date. Why?"

"It's not 2016! Are you crazy?"

"Not 2016, 1916."

"Ed!"

"What now?"

"It's 2006!"

Ed shot up out of his seat and practically screamed, "2006, are you serious?"

Everyone looked at him. I guess I hadn't thought of that earlier—Fullmetal Alchemist being set in 1916 and all. Too late now!

"Ed, something wrong?" Mr. Chmura was confused and slightly upset.

"What?" He looked over at the teacher. "N-no, nothing's wrong."

"Okay," Mr. Chmura said playfully, "You kinda scared me there!"

"Sorry." Ed rubbed his left arm behind his head and sat back down.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Fine," Ed replied, then muttered something under his breath as if I couldn't hear him, "2006. Where the hell am I?"


	7. Click Button

»Part Six: Click Button «

"Alright, guys, you're free to go," Mr. Chmura said as he dismissed our class. I gathered my things and wrote down the homework, making sure not to miss anything important. But just as we were leaving, Mr. Chmura called after Ed. "Will you be joining us again tomorrow?" He questioned.

Ed and I looked at each other for a second. Neither of us had thought of that before, nor did we know the answer.

"Not sure," Ed shrugged, "I don't know if I'll ever be back."

"Oh," said Mr. Chmura, sounding both surprised and upset. "Well, it was nice to have you in class."

Ed smiled and waved goodbye as we walked out the door.

"Now what?"

"Let's see..." I popped open my assignment notebook and looked at my schedule, even though I already had it memorized. "It's time for Directed Study."

"What's that?"

"It's like free time, sort of," I suggested, "Only you pretty much have to do your homework."

"Heh, what if you don't have any homework?" He grinned.

"Then you can do mine." I laughed girlishly and ran ahead.

"Hey, wait!" Ed reached after me, "That's not—"

I had stopped in front of the stairs, half waiting for Ed, the other half waiting for—HIM.

"Why'd you stop?" Ed asked.

I hardly paid attention. I was too busy focused on Click Button, a boy at my school who I had had a crush on since the sixth grade. Every morning after Biology or Math, I would see him coming down the hall, always right before me walking down the stairs. Sometimes he would even talk to me, but he was pretty friendly like that to everyone. I blushed as he walked by.

"Who's _that_ guy?" Stupid Ed. He could never understand this level of teenage-crushes. Heck, he couldn't even hook up with Winry! I kicked him abruptly in the shin for the third time that day. "Can you _please_ stop that already! It was cute the first time, now it's just getting old."

"Shut up." I ordered quickly. Click heard. He turned around.

"Hey, InsertMysteryPetNameThatClickCallsMe!" Click chirped, peppy as usual. "Ha's it goin'?"

"Good," I said, almost to myself. Normally I would make a face, showing that I was scared, but for some reason I had courage to answer.

"Who's shorty over there?" He pointed to Ed, who was still standing behind me. Click was too friendly and chipper to mean anything when he said 'shorty,' but you know Ed...

"What'd you call me?" Ed murmured coldly, clenching both his hands into fists. Even though he was steaming mad, he remained firmly where he was. The reason for his odd and almost calm behavior? Simple... I was pinching the back of his left wrist between my right index finger and thumb, threatening to use my dangerously long nails if he went too crazy in front of Click. Ed was trembling and I could almost see him going blind with rage as he struggled to contain himself.

"Nah, I was just messin' with ya," Click said in a laid-back voice. He punched Ed playfully on the shoulder (the left one, thankfully) and smiled. "Lighten up!"

"Why you---AHH!" Ed yelped in pain as I was forced to dig my nails into his arm. His right hand automatically slapped over his wrist, doubling as a sort of ice pack for the 'wound.'

"We have to go now," I announced in an embarrassed tone, pushing Ed into the hallway leading downstairs. "Nice.. um... seeing you, okay bye!"

"Okay," Click agreed. He scratched the back of his head with his hand and walked back down the hall in the opposite direction.

I sighed and leaned against the wall, almost forgetting my anger towards Ed. Almost.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING! EMBARRASSING ME IN FRONT OF CLICK, HOW COULD YOU?" Ed was still rubbing his wrist. It looked pink and a bit swollen. I hadn't meant to hurt him... Okay, I did. But then I kinda started to feel bad for him—my nails _were_ pretty sharp. "Um... sorry... about your wrist."

"Huh? Oh, yeah," He put each hand back into its designated pocket.

"Need a band-aid?" I offered, even though I didn't have one.

He shook his head. "No, it's my fault." he breathed. "I have a short temper..."

"Tch, could'a fooled me." he shot me a dirty look. I could tell that I was pushing the envelope. "Sorry, sarcastic reflex."

There was a silence. Moments later we both started laughing at our excuses. The Directed Study bell chimed.

"C'mon," I started walking down the stairs, "We gotta get to my locker before 9:10 or else we'll be late again."

"I'm right behind you!" He trotted alongside me, this time to my left; both of us acting as if nothing had ever happened. Sure he was short-tempered, stubborn and often very annoying, but he was not the kind of person you could hold something against. Or at least, _I_ couldn't, anyway.


	8. The Yack

»Part Seven: The _Yack_ «

"Didn't we just come from here?" Ed asked as we hurried down the 10th-or 11th- grade pod, I could never remember which was which.

"Yes, but," I replied, "One, that was half an hour ago and two, we're going somewhere different."

"Oh?" Ed questioned. My sister hated it when people did that, but I sometimes did it myself. "Where are we going this time?"

"Math class," I said as we approached the door to Mrs. Whitman's room. It was her class, but we were taught by a student teacher—Ms. Yackel. Yes, _Yackel_.

"Mrs. Whitman." Ed read the purple sign on the door, "Is that the teacher?"

Did I not just explain this? Oh, not out loud. I sighed.

"It's Mrs. Whitman's room, but our student teacher is Ms. Yackel," not leaving out a word from my earlier description, I repeated: "Yes, Yackel."

"Psh," Ed laughed to himself as I pushed open the door. Then he muttered under his breath, again thinking no one could hear, "Yackel."

"Yes?" Ms. Yackel was standing right on the other side. She was young, about 22, and had light-brown hair with blond highlights. It was pulled back with a clip and hung halfway down her back. Her 'yes?' was not a 'did you call?' sort of 'yes,' it was more of a 'what do YOU want?' 'yes.'

"Ms. Yackel!" I exclaimed, though things like this had happened in the past. Ed was trying not to laugh.

"What's so funny?" She asked, maybe sounding like a little kid to people who didn't know her. But I knew her. She was annoyed; having another teenage boy to deal with was _not_ a desirable event. "Who'er you?"

"Ed,"

"Ed who?" It sounded more like a statement than a question.

"Ed Elric, that's who."

Ms. Yackel turned to me. "Is he with you?" She asked, clearly annoyed.

"Yeah, he's my cousin," I went with the regular identity. Ed nodded.

"How old are you?" She questioned.

"Fifteen," Ed knew exactly why she had asked. You could tell from the way she was looking at the top of his head, almost like she were measuring him where he stood.

The Yack—I mean, Ms. Yackel—glanced back and forth between the two of us, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. "Go siddown." She finally gave in.

"Yup," I said, already starting off in the direction of my assigned seat. I was placed at the front desk in the furthermost right corner of the room, a seat that was guaranteed to draw Ms. Yackel's attention should I do anything worth punishing. Any closer to her and I'd be the one teaching the class.

I walked around the corner of the desk, like I did every day, and pulled the chair out. I sat down and neatly arranged my binder into the rounded edge of the table, feeling unorganized when it laid askew.

"Who sits here?" Ed pointed at the empty seat to my left. He was still standing at the head of the class in front of the desk.

"You," I told him, "It's regularly unoccupied, since I tend to talk to people during this class."

"Hah, it's that boring?" Ed laughed to himself.

I cleared my throat rather loudly and looked down at the table; a signal that The Ya—Ms. Yackel—was right behind him.

"You two are _not_ talking during _my_ class," Ms. Yackel warned, "I mean it, Oli."

"_I know_," I replied, half smirking myself. Usually I would show great respect for a teacher by answering with, 'Yes, ma'am,' or 'Yes, sir,' but Ms. Yackel's young age and snappy attitude made her an exception.

She made a face and walked up to the front of the class, asserting her authority. "Alright, find your seats," she announced.

Everyone shifted into their own assigned places.

"Hai, Ms. Ya-ckel," someone called facetiously from the back of the room. I knew already that it was John Clark, for this 'hai' stuff was his little way of sucking up to Ms. Yackel.

"Quiet, John," she breathed, although it was clear that she was trying not to smile. "Okay, get out your homework, I'm coming around to check it."

"Subtle, huh?" Ed remarked, grinning sarcastically as I laid my homework on the table.

"Cha, right." Ms. Yackel came over to us. I cooed into a baby voice. "I did my homework, Ms. Yackel."

"Alright," she confirmed, still feeling like the two of us had tricked her in some way,

"Why'd you tell her that?" Ed asked as The Yack sto—arg! MS. YACKEL stomped... er, walked away.

"Tell her what?" I put the sheet under my purse, making sure they stayed organized. "That I did my homework?"

He nodded.

"Because I usually—I mean I sometimes..."

"Don't do it?"

"Yyyeah..." I sheepishly admitted. I had gotten more interested in Math lately, but I hadn't really done any work in the past.

"Okay, this is Section 6.5," Ms. Yackel called out to the class. She was talking about notes. I pulled out a piece of paper, handed it to Ed, and told him to copy down everything she wrote on the board.

"What? Why do I have to?" He asked in a whisper.

"Because," I tore out a piece for myself, "You were doodling little pictures of _Homunculi_ all through Biology while we were supposed to be taking notes."

"Right," I handed him a pencil and he did as he was told. Usually I would've insisted on taking the notes myself—I was a neat freak—but I had seen his handwriting, and he gained my approval.

I pretended to take notes, careful not to let Ms. Yackel see what I was actually doing; drawing. I know, I know. Hippocratic actions are against what I thought to be right, but I really didn't feel like caring at that moment. Ed leaned over and glanced at my paper.

"What's that?" He asked.

"Nothing," I replied, covering my paper with my elbows. I didn't especially favor people watching me while I drew.

"Then why are you hiding your paper?" Ed smirked at me, but I just pulled the paper further away from him using my forearms. "Lemme see it."

"No!" I forgot to whisper.

"Hey," Ms. Yackel broke off from her lesson to scold me. It was not a rare action; I often talked in class during her notes. This time, though, I dragged in another victim. "Oli and Ed," she chanted, almost as if she were reading the title from a children's book. "Stop the extra talking!"

That was like her mini-catch phrase, 'stop the extra talking!' 'Find your seats,' 'Break's over; get back to work!' Many were used throughout the day. All of us had become quite familiar with them now.

"_Extra_ talking?" Ed mimicked when Ms. Yackel wasn't listening.

"Dude, she's a Yankees Fan." I told him.

"Oh." he paused, "What's that?"

I just shook my head and went back to drawing. Class would be over in twenty minutes, and then it was time for period seven. Oh, boy.


	9. Big Smile

»Part Eight: Big Smile «

The Yack **MS. YACKEL **was handing me the homework when the bell rang, signaling the end of second period. I thanked her quietly and slipped the sheet into my overstuffed homework folder. I had been too lazy to clean it out for a few consecutive weeks, although I knew how badly it needed an organization job.

"See you tomorrow," she called in a dull tone as though she didn't mean it. Ms. Yackel, unlike Mr. Chmura, made no effort whatsoever to question Ed's attendance to the class for the following day—but it wasn't like I had expected her to or anything.

I made my way through the maze of desks, Ed following close behind as always. "Oh, you get to meet Cashel now!" I squealed as we stepped into the pod area. I had almost forgotten that it was Tuesday; meaning that the kids were there for Child Development class.

"Who'sat?" Ed asked, slurring his words.

"She's my preschooler," I said excitedly, "She's really cute; you'll like her." I wondered for a second if Ed might've thought that, when I said 'my preschooler,' I meant Cashel was my own kid. I quickly made a correction. "I mean, she's my preschool _partner. For Child Development._"

"Child Development?"

"Yeah, it's a class where we learn to care for little kids that come on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays," I explained, "But Cashel only comes on Tuesday—today."

"You mean like... _babysitting_?" he commented, sounding very uninterested.

"I guess so,"

Ed gave a half-groan, half-sigh. "How exciting."

"Oh, come on!" I tilted my back, then to the side as I looked at him.

He muttered something to himself about not being a babysitter.

"Besides," I added, "It's not like you have a choice."

As we approached the Child Development room, I could see that some of my other classmates were already inside. I peered into the cafeteria, walking steadily for a better glimpse of the people eating lunch. Ed sauntered beside me, his arms folded angrily across his chest.

"Remember, you have to be smiling when you're in there," I quietly reminded him as we neared the classroom. "It's a rule."

"That's a stupid rule," me murmured, acting very uncooperative.

"Yeah, well, I didn't make it up," we both stopped outside the door. I put my hands instructively on my hips, "Now, lemme see you smile!"

He pulled back the right section of his lips, bearing his teeth.

I raised a brow in disapproval. "Bigger smile," I ordered, "I mean it."

Ed looked around to see if anyone important was watching.

"How's this," he cracked a huge, fake smile. "Big enough for ya?"

I sighed and rolled my eyes. Sure Cashel wouldn't be able to tell the difference, but Ed needed to learn a lesson on behavior or respect—or both. We turned and stepped meekly into the classroom.

I spotted Cashel sitting cross-legged in a mob of other preschoolers. The teacher, Mrs. Waters, stood up. She even had one of her own daughters in the program; a blond little girl named Lauren, about three years old, looked up at her mom.

"Alright everybody," Mrs. Waters started the class. She was always so full of energy; but I guess you kinda had to be when dealing with so many little kids. "Find your big buddies!"

Us—the students—were the 'big buddies' she was referring to.

"Oli!" a familiar voice called out. It was Cashel, my preschooler. She ran over and grabbed my knees, obviously having to look upwards just to see my face. She gazed excitedly at me with big, blue eyes that seemed to be her main feature, for they were often commented on. Cashel was three and a half and stood just up to my hips. Her straight, dirty-blond hair was shoulder-length and regularly pulled back into a ponytail. She smiled quickly, then let go of my pantleg with one hand and took a step back as she noticed my friend.

"Cashel," I cooed, "Can you said hi?"

She looked at me, then back at him. "Wha's _your_ name?"

Ed was silent for a moment.

"Answer her!" I whispered harshly.

He shifted his golden eyes down to meet her blue ones, "Hi, my name's Ed." He smiled, almost looking interested.

"Oh, hi--" Cashel was sort of shy, often saying 'hi' or 'hello' very quickly.

"Isn't she cute?" I chirped.

"Yeah," he smiled again, possibly trying to hide his sudden realization of the earlier misjudgment. Then he half-admitted it, "She is pretty cute."


	10. Provoked

»Part Nine: Provoked «

"Isn't _this_ _her_ job?" Ed whined as we walked back down the hall. He was talking about carrying the equipment—little kid toys—to the gym. Our class took the preschoolers there for free-time whenever they came.

"Sorry, she usually does it herself," I giggled, glancing over my shoulder at Ed as he struggled to balance all of the play-stuff. "I thought you liked carrying the balls, Cashel?" I asked.

"No--" she broke off again quickly. I knew this wasn't the truth; Cashel liked to carry that stuff so much that sometimes she would fight with the other kids just so she could do it herself. I didn't bother asking why today was different. Instead, I looked over my shoulder again and shrugged at Ed.

"Guess not!" I giggled again as I was led off down the hall by Cashel. Ed groaned and continued to lug the stuff behind him, barely catching up to us.

I rounded the corner and pushed open the double doors as I reached them, revealing to Cashel—and Ed—the rubber gym. We were the last people into the gym; and of course, Ed was carrying the equipment. He realized this a bit late.

"Huh?" Ed turned to see almost every preschooler running at him like hungry lions to an injured zebra. "AH! N-no, wait--!" He held out a hand as if to stop them from charging. The panic hit him—along with about every preschooler in the gym—and he fell to the floor on his back.

"Are you okay?" I asked, trying not to laugh as the kids piled off him.

"Just... peachy...!" Ed was still lying on the floor, dazed.

Cashel picked up her favorite Snow White ball that had fallen on the floor when Ed was tackled. She had a plastic yellow bat under her arm.

"Crazy kids," Ed muttered as he sat up and rubbed the back of his head.

"Here," I half-giggled, "Lemme help you,"

"Thanks," He said, taking hold of my outstretched hand as I pulled him up.

"Hello," someone said from behind me. It was Mrs. Waters. I guess she hadn't noticed Ed until he was mauled by the preschoolers. She looked at me, waiting for an introduction.

"Oh, uh..." I was always shy when it came to Child Development. Heck, I was always shy _period_. Mrs. Waters was much aware of that, she sometimes called me 'wallflower' when I failed to participate. I turned to my 'cousin,' "This is..."

"Ed," he said calmly, offering his left hand to the teacher.

"Hi," she replied, sounding like a regular mother being introduced to a friend's parent. She shook his hand in turn. "I'm Mrs. Waters."

Cashel bounced her ball beside me.

"Oli, are you with Cashel today?" She asked. I nodded, the usual reply to any one of her questions. She turned back to Ed, "And... do you have somewhere to be?"

"He's with me," I spoke up before he could answer, "I mean, he's my cousin. He's been coming to all of my classes with me—"

"Okay!" Mrs. Waters sounded very pleased. "Is it just for today, or...?"

Ed and I looked at each other, then I faced Mrs. Waters. "We don't know how long he's staying," I said.

"Okay. That's fine."

I smiled and nodded as she walked away.

"You take the bat," Cashel ordered from beside me. I had sort of become unaware of her presence.

"Alright!" I piped as she handed me the plastic toy. This game of ball-and-bat was our usual Tuesday activity. I assumed Ed would follow us Cashel and I found a clear area to play in, but he just stood and watched. I gave a look of concern.

"That's okay," He waved, "I'll watch."

"Ed, come on," I whined, tilting my head, "That's exactly how I earned the nickname, 'wallflower.'"

He sighed and walked over to where we were standing. I knew he wasn't planning on getting involved, but at least he showed a hint of participation.

"I love your hair, Cashel," I told her. She was sitting on my lap as Ed and I sat on a giant blue jumping-mat. We were taking a break from the game.

"Thanks," she said, still very quickly and still not really paying attention.

"Isn't she adorable?" I smiled and turned to Ed, who was resting his chin in his left palm; his arm was held up from the elbow by his leg. He looked as if he were in deep though, but I knew he was just bored.

He saw me watching him, slightly disappointed. "_What!_" He spat.

I frowned and made a 'you know what I'm talking about' face.

Ed gave a hefty, annoyed sigh and went back to watching the rest of the out-of-control class. His lookout was quickly interrupted when he caught sight of me whispering something into Cashel's ear. I half hoped he that he would.

"What?" Ed took his head off of his palm, asking me to repeat myself as if I were talking to him. I just looked at him and giggled.

"Go ahead!" I whispered to Cashel. I was making sure that Ed could hear as well. He glanced over at her in curiosity.

Cashel was looking the other way--downward, almost—but she obeyed, opening her mouth to speak, "You're short."

"WHAT!" Ed's temper exploded once again. He looked to me, probably wondering if I was aware of the event taking place. It was then that he noticed my hand was covering my mouth, failing horribly to hide my laughter.

His rage quickly shifted from Cashel to me. "YOU TOLD HER TO SAY THAT, DIDN'T YOU?"

"Smile!" I snickered, still covering my mouth, "She's watching!"

He turned to Cashel, clenching his teeth together in an attempt to force a smile. The enraged look melted from his face for a second, but not before he had time to snap at me under his breath, "You're dead!"

I made a jerky face and stood up, helping Cashel down from the mat as well. Everyone was starting to leave the gym. Luckily, Cashel was back in the mood for carrying the equipment.

"I mean it," Ed scowled for the last time as we returned to the classroom.

"What'cha gonna do," I teased, "_Kill me_?"

He shot me a dirty look. It didn't last long, though; his normal expression returned as he watched Cashel run into the open arms of her mother. A hint of nervousness in his character made me wonder if he might be thinking of his own mother, so I took him by the wrist again and led him into the cafeteria; this being the second time that his sour mood had ended without a trace.


	11. SoCalled 'Food'

»Part Ten: So-Called 'Food' «

I picked up a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich, triangle-cut and covered in plastic wrap. I had one every single day with milk, and I usually got an ice cream afterwards.

"What am I supposed to eat?"

Oops. I guess I had been so hungry for myself that I had forgotten about what Ed was going to have for lunch. I shrugged.

"Just... have what I'm having," I suggested.

"Okay, what's that?" He smiled naively.

"A Peanut-butter and jelly sandwich with--"

"With what?"

"Milk." I muttered. Guess I had forgotten that, too.

"Yech, no thanks." He made a face of disgust.

"Didn't think so," I turned and read the blackboard which displayed the lunch for each day. Usually it was something gross, like what schools normally serve to kids in an attempt to get them sick of school food. I know their plan: freak everyone out of hot lunch so that they all bring it from home, thinking it will save them some money for textbooks or something. They weren't fooling anybody.

Ed's stomach growled, interrupting my subconscious sneer. I shook the evil thoughts from my head and read aloud what was scribbled in chalk, "Macaroni & Cheese w/ Bread."

"Sounds good!" He took a step towards the ladies who were serving it.

"I wouldn't if I were you." I put my hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Why not?"

"School lunches... aren't exactly--"

His stomach interrupted me again. He placed a hand over it, laughing nervously through his teeth.

"Alright," I dismissed. It's not like I hadn't warned him.

"Thanks," I told the woman running the cash register as I payed for mine and Ed's food. Fortunately, she had also fallen for the false explanation that Ed and I had been using throughout the day; I barely had to get into it all.

She smiled and nodded as I started making my way over to where my usual seat was for lunch. I sat with four other people; my friends, Linsey and Sarah, and Sarah's friends, who I normally got along with, Emily and Samille. There was always just enough room for the five of us... wait... where did that leave Ed? I was about to address the problem when someone called out my name.

"Oli!" It was Linsey.

Normally, I would've been happy to see her. We would always talk about Fullmetal Alchemist and other anime, so she knew very well who Ed was. That was why, today, it scared me. Of course she would know who Ed was if I introduced him, but would she believe me? Would she understand? I walked up to her, almost afraid to find out.

"What's up?"

"They're going to sit outside again," she frowned. I had no idea what she was talking about.

"Who?"

"Sarah, and Emily and Samille; I heard them say that they were going to sit out on the picnic tables!"

"Um... okay?"

"I don't wanna sit outside," she looked worried, "But I don't want to be alone again, either."

Did I forget to mention that I was out sick Monday? This is partly a true story—except for the part with, y'know, Ed—only I switched some stuff around so that everything could happen like I wanted it to. I really was sick on Monday, but I was sick Tuesday, too. Linsey said this to me on Wednesday; the story is a bit mixed up like that. Just roll with it, okay?

"Who said I was sitting with them?" I asked. If it had been earlier in the year, then sure, I probably would've gone to sit with them; but Linsey and I had become really good friends since then, and I would much rather sit with her than... yeah.

She still looked a bit confused.

"I mean I'm going to stay in here," I laughed, "I don't wanna be with those guys anyway!"

"Okay," she smiled. Then she noticed the strange kid standing behind me, "Who--?" she pointed.

"I'll tell you when you sit down," I said before she could finish, turning around and heading off towards the table again.

"Who was that?" Ed asked almost as soon as he was sure she couldn't hear us.

"Just wait till she comes over and sits down," I said, sitting down myself. As soon as he got confirmation from me nodding my head, Ed sat himself down as well. He was right across from me, the seat where Emily usually ate lunch.

I barely had time to finish my sandwich before Linsey came and seated herself in the regular spot, to my right.

"That was fast," I smirked. Linsey just laughed.

"Okay, now who _is_ this guy?" she questioned openly, showing no sign that she cared if Ed had heard or not.

He hadn't. He was poking a fork at his 'rubber' macaroni, trying to decide whether it was really something he wanted to taste.

"Eat it," I said as if it were a dare.

He looked up at me like he had forgotten I was there.

I nodded, "Go ahead," I repeated.

Ed shrugged and put the fork into his mouth. Linsey and I watched his expression go from blank to horrible as he choked down the clump of macaroni and stuck out his tongue. "They call this food?"

"School food," Linsey and I laughed.

"It's awful!"

"Can't say I didn't warn you," I gloated. "Y'see why I tried to stop you earlier?"

Ed whined as his stomach groaned for food--real food. "Now what am I supposed to eat?"

As if I knew. "I'll make you something when we get home," I offered, even though school wouldn't be out for another hour-and-a-half.

He smacked his head down and reached his arms across the table flimsily, letting out a loud moan that was muffled by the tabletop.

"Oli!" Linsey urged impatiently, "Who _is he?_"

"Oh, right," I started, breathing out slowly as I spoke, "Linsey, meet--"

We both turned over to look at Ed--well, what was visible of him, anyway—when I noticed that his right hand was in plain view. Unfortunately, Linsey saw it too.

"Ed!" I reacted quickly as possible, "Your--!"

"Hn?" Ed looked up lifelessly, then followed my eyes down to his hand. He panicked and the hand frantically shot past him, hiding behind his back. This swift movement disturbed his braided hair, which Linsey also caught sight of.

"Ed?" She slowly put things together; the metal arm, the hair, not to mention his height and just his appearance in general. Linsey looked at me for an explanation

I flashed a weak smile. There was no need to answer.


	12. Believe It

»Part Eleven: Believe It «

"You're kidding," Linsey frowned in disbelief.

"I'm not!" I protested.

"Prove it."

"Alright, go ahead," I glanced quickly at Ed, "Kick him in the shin; you'll see."

Both of them had their eyes on me; Linsey to make sure that I was really serious, and Ed for a hint of what to do next. I shot him a 'just hold on a second, wouldja?' look and turned back to Linsey, nodding in approval.

"If you say so," she sighed, sliding over into my seat as I slid into Sarah's. Linsey bent back her leg and swung it under the table, landing a blow on Ed's—RIGHT shin?

I winced as Ed yelped out in pain.

"YEOW!" he grabbed his leg and hugged it up to his chest, "Whadja do _that_ for?"

"I meant his _left_ leg," I corrected Linsey.

"Whoops," she said apologetically, "Let's try that again."

"NO--!" I was able to stop her just as she swung back her leg in preparation for a second kick.

"How about I _show_ you instead?" Ed asked nervously as Linsey returned her foot to the ground, sliding back into her own seat.

"Good idea," I added.

"Ta-dah!" Ed grinned like a jerk again as he pulled up his pantleg, just as he had done in Biology.

"Whoa!" Linsey stared at the metal limb that replaced his normal one from the knee down, "So you're really...?"

"Toldja," I turned to Linsey as Ed snickered and continued to bear his teeth. "It's really him."

"Okay, this is just weird," she folded her arms in disapproval.

"Weird?" Ed questioned defensively, the glory and recognition vanishing from his face. "How is it weird?"

"I dunno," Linsey still looked unconvinced, as if the auto-mail hadn't proved anything. "I just have to be absolutely sure before I can say if it's real or not."

"Like how?" Ed asked.

"You'll see," Linsey sported a huge grin as she blurted out, "_Little_ Alchemist."

Ed's temple twitched. He clenched his teeth and growled through them, "Who are you calling _little?_"

"Calm down," she toyed with him, knowing exactly how to get Ed going about his height. "You're almost as short as your temper!"

Linsey and I only had a quick moment to exchange glances. Hers said, 'Here we go!' while mine said, 'Here we go again.' Ed shot up and slammed his hands onto the table.

"WANNA SAY THAT TO MY FACE, KID? GO AHEAD! IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE WHO I AM THEN I'LL PROVE IT! NEXT TIME YOU CALL ME THAT, I'LL KICK YOUR--"

POW! Linsey struck him in the stomach with her fist, hardly having to move the rest of her body for the punch to be forceful enough.

"I believe you."

Ed fell right onto the floor, clutching his gut. He looked as if the air had been knocked out of him, but I knew even Linsey wasn't _that_ strong.

I just sat there in my seat, gaping back and forth at the two of them. Ed put one arm on the table and slowly began to lift himself up. He continued to rise as Linsey snickered to herself.

"Lucky.. shot." Ed said breathlessly.

"Whatever." Linsey smirked in his direction.

"At least you hadn't eaten anything," I suggested.

Ed frowned, his stomach growling. "Thanks for reminding me."

I rolled my eyes as Linsey asked routinely, "Ice Cream?"

"Yeah, I need something cold for this--"

"Quiet, you," she teased, facing me again, "Come on!"

I got up and followed her. Then Ed got up and followed me, rubbing his two-reasoned upset stomach as he walked. Once inside the food area, Linsey pushed open the freezer box that held her favorite Ice Cream. I didn't feel like having any, and I didn't know if Ed would want it after having no lunch—or being socked in the stomach.

"You don't want one, do you?" I checked.

"No," He muttered, letting go of his middle. "I'm fine."

So Linsey payed for her Twix Ice Cream and we went back to sit down, only a few minutes before last class. I leaned forward against the edge of the table as Ed rested his head in his arms on top of it, waiting for lunch to be over.

Folding the discarded ice cream wrapper and placing it into her velvet green purse, Linsey began undoing the latches on her flute case. Ed looked up.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

A mischievous smile was all I got in response from my friend as she expertly fixed up her instrument, fitting the pieces in order one by one until it was complete. Both Ed and I watched as she raised the mouthpiece to her lips and played an appalling, high and off-pitched note.

"Hey!" Ed cried, forcing his hands against his ears in an effort to block out the brazen screech. "Cut that out!"

I, too, had my hands pressed to my ears, but made no attempt to stop Linsey. She only blew harder. _Fffweeeeeeet!_ A few people looked over at us from neighboring tables, checking out the commotion. Linsey put the flute down and snickered.

"What are you trying to do, deafen me?" Ed snarled and dropped his hands.

Linsey pretended not to hear as she disassembled the flute just as expertly as she had taken it out. Fitting the pieces into their places accordingly, she closed the black case and delicately folded her hands on top of it.

Ed sighed, letting his breath hit the roof of his mouth to make a rolling 'h' noise like he had something caught in his throat. He glanced up at the ceiling, then back down at the table, looking slightly discouraged. I was able to talk with Linsey a little bit before the bell rang for last class. Finally; the day was almost over.


	13. Sam

»Part Twelve: Sam «

Linsey and I continued chatting as we walked down the hall. Ed was on the other side of me, wisely keeping his distance from the maniac with the flute. His presence had become almost ordinary as the day moved on, and I had nearly forgotten that he was an abnormality to my everyday social life. Wait... I have a social life?

"I don't even know how he got here!" I whispered excitedly to Linsey.

"Where did you _find_ him?"

"I didn't!" I exclaimed, "He just... showed up on my doorstep!"

"Weird..."

Ed looked over at the two of us, seemingly uninterested.

"Yes, we're talking about you," I nodded.

"Hm," he shrugged, facing forward again. I knew he would probably try to listen in to our conversation now.

"So what am I supposed to do with him?"

"How should _I_ know!" she thrust her upturned palms into the air. "I still can't believe it's really him!"

"Please, don't start _that_ again." I breathed sarcastically.

"What are you going to do with him?" she asked, "Like, how are you going to _get rid of him_, I mean."

"Get rid of him?" that worried me. "I don't _wanna_ get rid of him; he's kinda cool!"

Another jerky grin slipped across Ed's face as he heard me.

"Well, have you told your mom yet?"

"No, she's on some trip. And everyone else is ((somewhere else I have to think of before the end of the story.))"

"Oh," she said as we reached the pod.

I sighed and broke away from our conversation, leaving Linsey to stop at her locker while I led Ed off towards mine to grab some stuff I needed before English class. I entered the combo and pushed up at the little latch, swinging it open on its hinges. There I squatted down on my feet, piling books after book and a binder into Ed's hands. Allison often made me hold her supplies as well, but I didn't mind at all. I just liked helping people out.

"Okay, thanks," I said as Ed handed me my stuff. Then I shut my locker and swung my purse up over my wrist.

"Upstairs again, huh?" he followed me over towards the stairwell.

"Yep," I nodded, "All of my classes except for Child Development and lunch are upstairs."

"And your locker's downstairs." Ed stated.

"I know, right?"

I grabbed hold of the railing as I rounded the corner on one of the landings. Every staircase in the school was in a white, two-story high room and had two sets of practically perpendicular stairs. There were Spanish posters and a sunset mural in this particular one, and students usually hung flyers or other stupid stuff in the rest.

I always liked to run up the stairs on all fours at our house, but I had to resist the urge to do so while I was in school, for obvious reasons. Okay, sometimes I did anyway—and still do—just don't let it get around, y'hear? Alright... where was I... oh, yeah. English class.

The door was always open to Mrs. Smith's room, but our teacher's name was Ms. Stratton. She had blue eyes and chocolate-colored hair, which she often wore up with a clip. I don't want to guess her age for fear of getting it wrong, but she looked fairly young. Her methods of teaching and friendly personality was something I liked, and I was one of the best students in her class (if I do say so myself.) She would always smile and say 'hello' whenever I walked in.

"Okay, just let me talk," I whispered to Ed as I took a step into the classroom. It seemed that I was always the last one there.

"Hello," Ms. Stratton welcomed me, just like I had predicted. Her voice trailed off as her eye-contact with me shifted to Ed.

"Um, yeah." I paused abruptly, lingering on thoughts of her reaction. I was shy in this class as well. Maybe it was because I had no friends... in here and Child Development, I mean. "This is my cousin..."

"Hi," she said quickly, letting me finish.

"He's, like, coming to all my classes and stuff..." wow. I really sound like an idiot, don't I. That's probably what I'd actually say to her in this situation. Thank God it's only a story.

"Oh, okay!" she smiled at him.

"Yeah," I choked out. Talking to teachers always made me nervous.

"What's your name?" Ms. Stratton asked, almost as if I had just told her and she had already forgotten.

"Ed," Ed said blankly. He didn't bother holding out a hand for Ms. Stratton to shake because he saw that her hands were already full with books and a marker.

"I'm Ms. Stratton," she introduced, looking around the room for a place where Ed could sit. Luckily, the seat next to mine was empty. "You can just have a seat over next to Oli," she pointed, "I don't think Brynne's here today."

"No, she's not," I confirmed.

"Okay."

We bended around the projector and snaked through the crookedly aligned desks until we got to mine. I shared a double-desk with Maggie, while Brynne was normally seated to my right. A kid named Sam, who we both hate, sat to the right of her.

I had been in a class with Sam ever since kindergarten, and I'd always despised him. He hasn't changed much—still loud and obnoxious as ever—which is why I can't blame anyone who finds him unruly; not a pleasure to be seated next to, as Ed soon found out.

"Whoa, who'er you?" Sam boomed impolitely, leaning back in his seat.

"Name's Ed," Ed replied. The friendly tone in his voice told me that he had no idea of what kind of person Sam was.

"_Ed?_" Sam questioned in distaste. I had to agree with him on that one; you'd think a Japan-originated anime character would've at least acquired a better English name than 'Ed' or 'Al.' But then again, 'Sam' was pretty dull, too.

"Don't like it?" Ed said sharply, catching on to Sam's class-clownish nature. "Get used to it."

Wrong move.

"Ooh," Sam howled sarcastically. His equally jerky friends joined in. Ed looked around him at the other boys; he was standing up while they all were seated. He gritted his teeth and growled a little. Yes, growled.

"Ed, don't--" I whispered, trying to stop him from getting into trouble. I was afraid that, if Ed got him worked up enough, Sam might do something that I knew Ed really wouldn't like.

"Dude, you wanna go?" Sam challenged facetiously, falsely suggesting a fight.

"I'm up for a fight, if that's what you mean," Ed clenched his left fist and swung it through the air up to his chest. He was careful not to show his right fist for the time being.

"You a tough kid, huh?" Sam teased.

"Who are you calling 'kid'? I'm fifteen!" Ed nearly shouted.

"Whoa, seriously?" Sam really looked surprised. Then he did what I'd hoped he wouldn't from the beginning.

Sam stood up.

"Same here." Sam was like most of the other freshmen guys—tall and mildly built-up.

"YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!" Ed cried in disbelief, keeping his volume to an inside yelp.

The other boys stood up. Taylor, a kid who used to make fun of me in Middle School, was just as mean and just as tall, if not taller than Sam. Mike wasn't quite as tall or mean as the others; he was actually quite funny at times, but he was still taller than Ed. Together, the three of them really got to him.

"Big deal! I'll take you all at once if I have to!" He claimed, clapping his hands together like he was about to perform alchemy... too bad it didn't exist in my world.

"Huh?" Sam noticed Ed's auto-mail arm. "What's up with your...?"

Ed looked up at him, still in confusion over why his alchemy wasn't working. He took his right arm away and acted as if they had not been about to fight. "You mean this?"

"Whoa!" All three boys gaped in real awe.

"Heh heh heh," Ego took over. Ed lifted the rest of his sleeve and grinned, "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Sweet!"

"That's awesome!"

"How'd you get it?"

"Uh..." Ed blinked and held his arm.

"Shark attack!" I whispered sharply, peering over his shoulder.

"Oh, right," he smirked, "Shark attack."

"But isn't that, like, weird to have on you?" Sam winced at the thought of having a metal arm. I wasn't sure if he knew about the girl's father that I had mentioned before (ch. 5).

"I'm used to it," he let his sleeve droop again, pointing at his other metal limb. "My left leg is aut—mechanic, too."

"Whoa, really?" Sam grasped onto the back of his chair.

"Well, most of it; see?" Ed lifted his black pantleg, "It's real strong, too."

"Nice," Sam sat back down. "So, you were planning to use those against me, huh? Pretty sweet..."

Ed rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "Nah, I wouldn't really," he lied, even though the both of us knew that, if his alchemy had worked, Sam would probably have been in pieces on the floor at that moment.

Sam nodded and might've been about to say something when Ms. Stratton began the class. We were instructed to take out our journals and begin writing, which was a daily exercise. After everyone had finished and a few kids shared their entries, a worksheet was passed out that was due by the end of class. It was a Q&A on a movie we were about to watch. I scanned over both the front and back sides of the paper, 10 questions in all. It wasn't that bad, and I was definitely in the mood for a movie, what with all the recent commotion over my new friend. Ed was probably more worn out that I was, but you could never tell it from the way he grinned; like he was the coolest thing since canned bread—now _that's_ something to grin about. I mean, bread. In a CAN! Who would ever think of—oh, right.

Anyway, I leaned my elbow across the table and made a fist to rest my cheek upon. Ed put his hands in his lap beneath the table and lay his head down on top of it, like he was going to take a nap. I didn't think he'd act so casual on his first day, but maybe he had gotten used to the 21st century already.

As one of my classmates volunteered to flick off the lights, Ed rolled his head over to face me. He still had one side of his face flat on the table.

"What's this?" He asked in a hush tone. Though I hadn't expected him to know what a movie was, I still wasn't prepared to go ahead and describe it. Especially without letting the other classmates know where—or when—he was actually from.

"It's a movie," I told him, equally hushed. "Like a picture that moves." That was all the detail I could go into if I wanted to keep Ed's secret from the class.

"A picture that moves?" he repeated, sounding both confused and unsure.

"I can't get into it right now, you'll see." I shook my head. "Just don't act all excited; people will get suspicious. Movies are everyday things, and I know you've never seen one before, so don't blow your cover." I quickly glanced around the room to see if anyone had been watching or heard what I said. From the looks of it, no one was even paying attention.

My answer had probably left Ed feeling a little scattered, but I couldn't have him acting like he'd never seen a movie before. Ms. Stratton pushed the DVD into its slot and another volunteer classmate got up and shut the shades, making it easier to see in the dark. I nodded and lifted my cheek off of my fist for a second while I whispered to Ed, "Turn around."


	14. Over and Again

»Part Thirteen: Over and Again «

The movie took up almost a quarter of the class, leaving about 15 minutes for us to work on the Q&A sheets. I knew that Ed was smart enough not to mention his reaction to seeing a movie for the first time; he kept quiet for the rest of the class, speaking only when necessary or to answer a question like he was supposed to. But as soon as we had collected our homework and the rest of our belongings and left the class at dismissal, Ed informed me nonstop of his thoughts on the 'moving picture.'

"How do they do that? I mean, having it like the.. with the sound..." It lasted until we got down to my locker, which was crowded as usual. I also had to wait for Ben, whose locker was above mine. In the past, we had always tried to block one another from reaching their locker, but he'd recently become better about hurrying up at the end of the day.

I shoved my homework and some books into my bright orange backpack, zipped it up and threw it over my shoulder. It wasn't as heavy as it'd been on some other days, like in the event I had to take home all 3 of my text books. And as much as I wanted to, I had to resist wearing my black kitty hat from the anime Trigun. Many kids would say that I shouldn't have worn it any day of the week, but I thought it looked cute. Even if I didn't watch the show, or no anything about it, for that matter, I still considered the hat to be a part of my afternoon head wear.

Kicking my locker shut, I motioned for Ed to follow me as I weaved through the end-of-the-day traffic jams that crowded the halls. Michelle's locker was in the same hall as mine, but the three of us always met up at Allison's locker, which was just a quick 20 paces from our own. Each afternoon I would look for the two of them so that we could start our walk home together.

"Hi guys," I said as I approached my friends. Allison greeted me and returned to filling up her own shoulder bag, while Michelle lingered on her welcome and stared shyly at Ed. She giggled as she kept her eyes on him, somehow finding it funny that he was still around. Ed was looking nowhere in particular; up at the ceiling, down at the ground, to the lockers beside him; anywhere but Michelle. He obviously knew that she was watching him, which is why he refused to make eye contact.

"Is he walking home with us, er..." there was a faint hint of interest in Allison's voice as she asked, though she didn't look up or away from her locker.

"Duh, where else would he be going." I replied a little harshly. My friends and I would always say things to each other and make them sound like insults, but that was just the way we communicated. Calling one another 'retard' or 'stupid' was normal for us. We swore at each other occasionally as well.

"Okay," Allison laughed. I could tell that my tone hadn't affected her. She lifted her heavy side bag over her shoulder and slammed her locker, causing a magnet or two to fall off on the inside. Michelle already had her bag with her, like I did, so we were set to go.

Pushing open one of the huge double doors with his back, Ed stepped outside onto the pavement. He winced under the bright sun as it beamed down and hit his face. While keeping a hand sturdily on the open door, Ed's free arm lifted to shield his golden eyes from the harsh rays of the sun. He squeezed his right eye shut, trying to further block out the light. The door swung shut as soon as Allison, Michelle and I exited the building.

"Don't stare at it, stupid," I frowned at Ed. "You'll go blind!"

"I know that!" he barked defensively, lowering his arm. Michelle began to giggle at him again.

"Whatever." I sighed and rolled my eyes, following Allison as she took the lead in our walk home. At first it seemed a little odd; the three of us chattering away and carrying backpacks while Ed dragged his feet behind us, no backpack in sight; so when we got over to the Dunkin Donuts, which was halfway away home, I made him carry mine.

Michelle took the train home since she lived a few towns over from ours. She walked until Dunkin Donuts and then turned off into the downtown area, whereas Allison and I continued heading straight, or 'the back way,' as we called it. Without Michelle, there was room enough for Ed to walk on my left as I walked between him and Allison. I hated the middle, but putting my best friend next to her least favorite anime character was not a good idea. I was just the opposite; I started to giggle and squeal whenever the thought of walking next to him came into mind. He obviously wasn't familiar with ADHD.

"You okay?" Ed asked, quirking an eyebrow. I nodded and squealed again, fighting the urge to scream or burst into laughter. Allison probably wouldn't have cared, since she was so used to it, but I didn't want to freak Ed out. He shook his head and took a deep breath. I tried to explain to him the faults of my hyperactivity. He still looked a little weirded-out, so I decided to drop it and cut the squealing. As long as he didn't notice, I would make my right eye twitch violently or flash Allison a crazed grin, just to show how full of bliss I was.

Before long I was walking normally—minus the occasional hint of laughter in my gleeful humming noises—and Ed was beginning to accept the fact that some people (like me) had a bit of trouble containing themselves when they got excited.

"Sorry." I would giggle whenever I noticed him sighing at my joy. I said 'sorry' to people a lot, even when I hadn't done anything wrong. I wasn't sure if by then he had learned of how self-conscious I was. I eventually stopped making noises, just to be sure he wouldn't think I was a weirdo.

Allison had hardly spoken at all since we had started walking, though I couldn't think of anything to say or ask her. I tried to remember what stuff we would usually talk about, but nothing besides Fullmetal Alchemist came up. When I looked around for ideas, I noticed that we were almost to the end of the street. Allison's house was just around the corner, meaning that she would be leaving us soon. I was rushed, so I asked the first thing that I could think of.

"Why don't you like Ed?" I blurted out, partly whining. Ed breathed out harshly through his nose, even though he disliked Allison just as much as she disliked him. I pretended not to hear him as I awaited Allison's reply.

"Uh, cause he's _gay_?" Allison muttered in an obvious tone. I should've seen it coming. Now that I think of it, I believe I'd asked her the same question about a week earlier.

"That's mean," I pouted. Ed, startled and slightly offended by Allison's answer, complained in a worried tone that he wasn't gay at all. Of course, not being from this time and having no way of knowing what 'gay' was now slang for, I couldn't blame him for being so defensive. "No, not like that." I sighed.

Ed calmed down a bit as I explained the new slang term of the word, though he still wasn't completely satisfied with Allison's comment. I suggested that he simply ignore her for the time being.

"Okay, I'm going home now." Allison said as she walked up the steps to her house. We waved goodbye to each other before she opened up the big wooden door and went inside. When I turned back around, Ed had taken my backpack off and was holding it out to me.

"Here, I don't want it anymore." he held it up by the strap. I hesitated, but took it from him anyway. I threw it back over my own shoulder with a sigh and began walking again.

The side door to my house creaked as I opened it and walked inside, barely leaving Ed any time to catch the frame before it swung shut. Being careful not to step on any residential ants that came with the springtime weather, I made my way through the kitchen and dropped my bag on the living room floor. It hit hard, making a loud thumping noise.

I had Ed sit and wait for me on the couch while I took Tisdale out to go to the bathroom. It was only a few minutes before he was ready to go in again, not having eaten anything since that morning. After giving the puppy his treat, I followed him out to the living room. Ed was no longer sitting upright or waiting; he had his back on the seat and his legs were resting up on the arm of the couch. In his hands he had a magazine, most likely one of my Nintendo Power or GamePro issues. Ed jumped when he saw me.

"I was... uh..." he looked around, pushing the magazine to the other side of the couch as if it had not just been in his possession.

"It's okay," I giggled, picking up the discarded magazine. "I don't care if you read this." I offered it to him again, but he shook his head and stood up. I shrugged and sat on the opposite side of the couch, tossing the magazine into a pile under the coffee table. Ed walked over to the window and peeked quickly through the curtain, then let it swing shut again as he turned around.

"Now what?" He asked.

"No clue," I said automatically. I really didn't have the slightest idea on how I would get him back to his time, or even if I _could_ do it. Whatever it took—I wasn't exactly up to it. I mean, how often does your favorite anime character just fall into your life like this? All I could do was wait...

THE END


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